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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312550">Atem Does Not Like This (He Does Not Like This At All)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzlDragon/pseuds/PuzlDragon'>PuzlDragon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime &amp; Manga)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Atem is UNHAPPY, Atem: Do not dare touch my friends or I will yelly very much, Atem: do you DARE upset the crown baby, Atem: feast on my drool you imbecile, Atem: why am I a squishy baby, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Sort Of, Time Loop, Time Travel Fix-It, Yami Yuugi | Atem Has His Own Body</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:48:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312550</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzlDragon/pseuds/PuzlDragon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Atem walks through the Door of Wadjet. And he's a baby now. What?</p><p>Atem finds himself struggling, semi-amnesiac, through a timeloop he only partially understands. It is going to take all his determination, and resourcefulness to survive this. (Sort of. He does become a ghost.) With some helping friends, they might be able to fix this. Please. Atem doesn't want to deal with diapers for the 19th time.</p><p>Or the one where I like making Atem suffer through many deagings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mutou Yuugi/Yami Yuugi | Atem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Why Am I A Human Marshmallon?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This came to me in that weird half dream state when you first wake up. #It'salwaysbeatupatemday</p><p>I love putting him through the weirdest situations. He no doubt would be uPSET at me if he knew who's doing this to him. 😆</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    The lowest level of the shrine where the door was held had flickering lamplight. It was paltry compared to the natural light they were in just minutes before. Yami- Atem stood before the large tablet, staring at the cards in his hand. Unlock other Duel Monsters cards, these were always warm. They pulsed with a heartbeat of their own. Everyone had a heartbeat in this room. All except him. Even this shadow body had nothing in it's chest. This was the final step. A final achievement, obtainment. What he had been denied so long. The borrowed heart in his chest raced with excitement, and dread. There was a part of him that could not deny the end result. He looked up at the worn stone. The eye that stared into his soul</p><p>    As a part of Yuugi, he could stand beside him. He would never have to leave. As himself, he wasn't meant to be here. As the pharaoh he walked in times, with people he shouldn't. The light flickered. Someone's modern sneakers squeaked across the old tile. He took a breath with lungs that were not truly his. He stepped forward. He raised his arm to the opening door. He shouted. My name is Atem!</p><p>    He wasn't in the shrine. He wasn't anywhere. Lights swirled, pulsing around him. The cards disappeared. The mimic shadow clothes he wore disappeared. He disappeared. He was no where, every where at once. </p><p>    Then he was somewhere. His arms wouldn't work. Not his legs. He opened his eyes. The light burned. Past it, all he could see was fuzz. Blobs, like blurred images. He heard murmurs, muffled vague noises. Like when Yuugi, and he had dipped their head under the pool water. Like sounds in the pool. In the ocean. Nothing, and everything.</p><p>    Soon enough, the limbs he could barely twitch, that didn't sit right, were wrapped around in a net. A soft net, but still a net. Well he certainly couldn't move now. The hands passing him by were like giants. He thought of duel monsters. Of how they once existed. Perhaps? He couldn't move. Couldn't see. Couldn't hear. He opened his mouth, to scream, to shout. Something, anything. To be left alone.</p><p>    He couldn't move his mouth right. He couldn't actually hear what came out very well. But he knew his voice. Knew how to move his lips. His tongue. But that seemed to have left him. He was confused. Confused, and lost, and trapped. He screamed in anger.</p><p>    Then he was passed over again. He was settled on a chest. He knew what a heartbeat sounded like. Even muffled, he knew one. He screamed again in his anger. Then he was patted. Like a pet. He screeched louder. Humming. Like a song. Did this mean nothing to his spirit captors? There was no other explanation. Not for how his limbs, and mouth betrayed him. Not for the size, nor for the manhandling.</p><p>    But he tired quickly. Perhaps due to not having been in control of a body of his own for long. He was exhausted, an exhaustion in his bones. Still, small sounds of frustration exited his mouth. He sniffled. There was exhaustion, but also fear. He was helpless like this. What had happened to his friends? Were they here, too? Helpless as he was? He could not protect them. Could not protect himself. His eyes closed without his consent.</p><p>    This treatment continues. It can't be hours. Must be days, maybe weeks. He is helpless. He is bound. He suffers indignities. His eyes continue to be blurred, his hearing muffled.</p><p>    But he starts to recognize voices. He is still upset at all of them. There is some he particularly recognize. They put him through tests of shame. He hates them. Tries futilely to get away from them. In his bound state he cannot achieve this.</p><p>    But he starts to respect a few of them. Or, partially respect them. They are involved in this. But they don't treat him as badly. Or whisper with terrible tones at him. And two of them...two of them he has such a strange fondness for. He cannot control the feelings in his chest. Like he knows them instinctively. Like he needs them to be around. His mind says this is irrational, but he can't fight what's in his chest. It feels as deep as his care for his friends. It feels as instinctive as his desire to eat, and sleep. So he is quiet. Just for them.</p><p>    Then there is something that happens.</p><p>    Someone touches him. Someone with hands the size of his. Roughly. They're bigger hands, but almost the same size. And arms come around him. Arms nearly like his. And a soft voice speaks calmly.</p><p>    Now, Atem's vision is still blurry. But all the enchantments binding him are wearing off. The shapes are clearer. And his hearing is better. And he can sit up, if he is laying against something. His captors must be lazy, as they don't care.</p><p>    But this person is his size, speaking softly, but with so much excitement. Then something is asked as a question. He can hear the lift in tone. Please say he's trying to free him. Please.</p><p>    But then something shiny is brought before him. That small voice is giggling. The person gets closer. If Atem didn't know better, he'd say that's Kaiba's mullet. But clearly it isn't. Kaiba would rather stab himself than giggle. But the shiny thing gets closer, as does faux-Kaiba. Then the shiny thing is in front of Atem's face.</p><p>    It's right in front of him, so he has to look at it. Also, for some reason he feels irrationally happy about the shiny. There's a lot of irrational feelings. Many of them make him lose his control. He cries, out of anger, frustration, or fear a lot. Terrible.</p><p>    But the shiny thing tilts, and he can see...Yuugi? There's that sharp hair, but it's different. He can see colored shapes. There's dark skin, red eyes. And the cheeks are far rounder than even Yuugi's baby face. Atem lifts his hands up, trying to grab this strange almost Yuugi. The hands in the shiny thing are tiny. Small hands. A baby's hands. In the shiny round thing. That has a handle.</p><p>    Oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>    <strong><em>Thisisn'tYuugithat'samirrorohnoohnoohno</em></strong>- he starts screaming. The other voice starts screaming. A bunch of people's voices he can' understand start babbling. Then the mirror goes away. Listen, this is the scare of his un-life, but he actually liked the shiny, so of course he starts screaming louder. He's a baby, what else can he do?</p><p>    So Atem is a baby. Priorities. One: How is he going to fix this? Two: What happened to his friends? Three: How fast can he food-, and potty-train himself?</p><p>------------------------</p><p>    So it turns out, that a baby who can't even lift his head up unsupported has no ability to potty train himself, or find his way to the magical library to fix this. Hopefully, this isn't a trap to try to kill everyone. Mostly because, he's a chubby, floppy, wordless blob of weakling. He's weaker than a marshmallon. Now, this is how most babies work. But he's grown up, and stuck in this marshmallow body.</p><p>    It's frustrating. Infuriating. He screeches out of frustration a lot, this tiny body unable to deal with his emotions. His hearing, however, has mostly cleared up, and he knows well how some of his nursemaids speak of him. They complain he is such a loud baby. They don't have to put up with what he does. They don't even remember being a baby. They don't have to suffer this humiliation.</p><p>    His parents, thankfully, won't hear of it. Even fired a woman. Mostly because he is very quiet around them. The love radiating off of them soothes his screaming baby brain in ways he cannot comprehend. It's easy to cuddle into their arms, and fall asleep. But he doesn't want to. Parents! He has parents! You can't miss what you don't remember. He experienced that first hand. But now he knows what a blessing they are. He wishes to spend every moment in their presence awake, soaking in their love.</p><p>    Of course, he's a baby, so that doesn't work out for him.</p><p>    It takes some time for Not-Kaiba to come around after the mirror accident. Atem's still kept away from most shiny things. A travesty. What wonders they are. He doesn't think he ever appreciated their beauty before. Yet another travesty. He will snatch the next mirror he gets his hands on, just watch him. He has planned. He remembers how Shizuka, and Jounouchi settled issues of ownership. Yes, he thinks copious amount of bady slobber will fix this. It's not as if anyone will steal something in the crown prince's mouth. They wouldn't dare hurt him. Listen. He is an infant. He has to deal with things. Let him have shiny things. He deserves it.</p><p>    But, back to Not-Kaiba. Apparently, Not-Kaiba is his cousin! There's a bit of a twisted glee in Atem's stomach as he knows how much Kaiba would hate this. So this time, he makes sure well to cuddle up to Not-Kaiba and behave himself. And drool a lot. Kaiba has put him, and his friends through hell. Atem allows himself this perverse little victory. Anyway, Not-Kaiba is too busy putting his teeny nose in the air and mocking the people who got angry with him for Atem's impromptu screaming match. Atem refuses to apologize. This is a hardship, alright.</p><p>    So he has parents, and he has a cousin, and an aunt, an uncle. He doesn't like his uncle. He can't tell you why, but this feeling sits as wrong in his stomach as not breathing does. After all, the man can't be the Akhenaden of his time. He doesn't have the Millennium Eye! Or any Millennium Item. He still doesn't like him. He can't tell his parents this. He can't tell his father not to let this man be an advisor. Not physically. But Atem <em>has</em> figured out that crying upon sight means he doesn't have to be in Akhenaden's presence. So that's helpful.</p><p>    And so the days continue on like that. Frustrating. Irritating. Humiliating. He grows his muscles enough to crawl. He weans himself as fast as he can. He figures out how to walk. Or, more accurately, he falls flat on his face in front of others once. Then he escapes, and practices in solitude. He has dignity.</p><p>    He grows up, quiet, and a little grumpy, and frustrated at his limitations. But he's happy. Happy with his parents. Happy with his family. Then his aunt, uncle, and cousin are gone. By plague, his father tells him. Then the Millennium Items are created. The priest who led it holds the Millennium Eye. Seeing it fills him with dread. He stays far away from Akhenaden when he even catches a glimpse of that gold. Stays far away from the items in general. This never should have happened in this confusing muck of an afterlife. Though he now doubts it is the afterlife at all. He sneaks into the library, but there isn't a thing he can find similar to this. And he's slowly read all of them.</p><p>    But he grows up. The Millennium Items are there, because of course they are. But he grows up, with his family there.Then his parents die. He is wracked with grief. Grief that makes him silent. He is glad for the three months of mourning. Of long hair, no shaving, no jewelry, no feasting. He delights not in food. Not in music. There is no glee in this second life of his without his parents. And he is crowned. Thirteen, with a crown on his head. It is so heavy. Council meetings, a million daily prayers, international politics. He handles it all. All alone.</p><p>    Up until a person with Ryou's hair but a feral smile bounds into the palace. The cruel Bakura. It is, as Jounouchi would say, a 'raging dumpster fire'. Once again, he loses everyone around him. A repeat of history past. He stares up into the hateful eyes of a demon god. He decides keeping a name is not worth the loss of the world. But maybe forgetting one is.</p><p>    And it is dark. Unforgiving. He knows nothing. Nothing but mazes, and hateful eyes following him in his prison. Pain, anger, loss for what he does not know pang his heart. Eventually, he forgets what those words mean. But he still feels them. Until he is released. And he sees a kind boy with spiked hair crying. Crying at injustice. So he takes action.</p><p>    And two years later, he stands in front of the Door of Wadjet again. For the eighteenth time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. An Enemy, And A Friend (Atem Is Smart, And Stupid)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brain fog bad. Depression bad. AHHHHH.<br/>Baby Atem good.</p><p>Yuugi (DSOD) in Duel Links says "He's...no longer inside me." So enjoy that fact.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    When Atem first entered the afterlife, he was expecting what he was taught as a child. The Duat, the heart-weighing. All that. Then he saw his friends, and family standing on the other side of the Door of Wadjet. Alright, wasn't conventional. But it wasn't a conventional scenario. He didn't have a body. Nor a tomb. Plus, the savior of the world thrice thing. Alright. To the afterlife.</p><p>    Then he was an infant.</p><p>    He found this out the hard way, when he wriggled his hand out of his swaddle, and bonked himself in the nose with it. That was *not* a grown person's hand. At all.</p><p>    His caregivers thought his shouts was because he injured himself. No, he just got the shock of his life. Afterlife. Second life. Existence. Unfortunately, they responded by swaddling him uncomfortably tight. He was so glad to outgrow that fluffy net.</p><p>    Anyway, he was a baby. Now he's a toddler. Which is how it normally goes, if you ignore the  conscious mind of a three millennia old being in that body. It's terrible. But he adjusts. He has been through worse than this. He will conquer this challenge until he can reach library shelves, and figure this out. Or maybe just speak clearly enough a magician will listen to him. Everyone baby talks him. Everyone! He gets tempted to snap respect your elders at all of them. If only he could. If only.</p><p>    Aside from the humiliation of being an infant, there's his uncle. Akhenaden. Thankfully, blissfully, without a golden eye. At first, Atem cried when he saw him. Screamed. This worked. For a while. But it didn't keep him away forever. So then Atem bit him. Sneak attack bit him, broke his things, ripped his papers 'while playing', and so forth. Akhenaden 's nightmare was shorter than his knees, and his nightmare was named Atem.</p><p>    But right now, there's a problem. Right now, Atem stands between this monster man, and his parents. Seto Not-Kaiba stands upset by his mother. And Atem is in a lot of trouble.</p><p>    This doesn't bother Atem. He has been almost consumed by the Leviathan. He has played life, or death games with cards, taser guns, giant butcher spinning disks, yo-yos, scorpions, and wire nooses. He has been attacked by a demon god, has had his soul wounded, and watched his friends be killed, or tortured. Watched Yuugi be taken by him.</p><p>    Time out? Spanking? No dessert? Writing lines? Paltry crumbs.</p><p>    His parents' disappointment? Problem. So Atem stares at the colorful tile. But his gaze is not on the sand rolling upon it. No, he is looking at this strategically. Like the first three millennia of his existence trained him. And he finds the best course of action.</p><p>    "I'm sorry, Uncle. I just wanted to play!" He says with the teariest eyes he can muster. He throws himself at the man's leg, doing his best to hold in the crawling along his spine. Atem needs to spill something on himself later. An excuse. To bathe Akhenaden's filth off him. "Please forgive me! I just wanted to play!" He lets tears come to his eyes. His bottom lip tremble</p><p>    Akhenaden's scrutinizes him with his hazel eyes. One is ringed with a touch of gold in the iris. Like a warning of what would come. His eyes go soft. As if he heart was touched. Ha. This man has no heart.</p><p>    "It will not do for you to play rough. You must use your manners," he says gently. Feigning parentalness.</p><p>    "I'm sorry, Uncle! I won't do it again!" Atem won't. It is time for other strategies. He raises his hands up to be held. Atem really will need a bath later.</p><p>    Akhenaden obligingly picks him up. Atem fakes sobs against his shoulder. He thinks of his friends, far away through time. Thinks of leviathans swallowing friends. Thinks of a bright green seal stealing a kind boy with big eyes. It isn't hard to cry. It's only hard in the arms of this monster.</p><p>    Atem lets the tears run. Opens his mouth. Lets drool and snot, disgustingly stick drip. He feels this horrible man tense up. Atem sneaks a smile. Then he opens his mouth, and chews softly on his hand. He sticks his head up, looks at that man's eye with it's gold hue.</p><p>    "I'll be better, Uncle. I promise," he says. Then he 'pats' his face in a hug. Makes sure to rub his grimy hand, and face all over Akhenaden's headdress. His beard. His eyes. He will be better. Better at making him pay hell in this afterlife wannabe. Then he holds out his arms at his parents.</p><p>    "Papa, Mama, I'm sorry. I'll use my manners." It won't do to disrespect how his parents 'raised him'. He enjoys the look on Akhenaden's face during the whole lunch from the warm cocoon in his father's arms. Atem swears he can feel the love radiate from his parents.</p><p>    This is so much better than biting Akhenaden. He doesn't have to wash his mouth out, for one.</p><p>   ******</p><p>    Atem is very, very glad to see Mahaad. And sad. But he's so glad. He hugs Mahaad the moment he sees him.</p><p>    Problem is, this Mahaad does not know him.</p><p>    "Umm...hello prince Atem," Mahaad says. His anxiety makes his voice sounds like cricket chirps. He stares down out Atem with his large brown eyes. His whole body is tense like a log, but his hands fidget, and shift where they hover by Atem's sides. "Pleasure to meet you."</p><p>    Atem frowns. This is not the Mahaad who stood beside him. This is not the Mahaad Atem cries over in mourning. Not in unlimited thankfulness. This was the Mahaad who once stole honey cakes with him from the kitchen. Atwm is still filled with unlimited thankfulness.</p><p>    Problem is, that doesn't make Mahaad know him.</p><p>    "Hi," Atem says. He doesn't really know what else to say. Mahaad looks over at his teacher. Those eyes beg for help. Mahaad's hair is long, but his bangs are cut in long triangles, not straight across. Atem forgot about that. He looks so young like this, his hair in his eyes. The fact he allows himself visible emotions is another youth factor. Right now, that's shock. And fear. Oh, boy. Several adults run up to to the scene.</p><p>    "My prince!" Cries Shimon. Dear Shimon. How many times has Atem given this patient, dedicated man a heart attack? Like what he's doing to Mahaad now. Logic says let go of the hyperventilating - how young is Mahaad, now? But Atem can't. He clings to this boy, who once will be a man who dedicated his eternity to him. Atem's eyes water. Curse this infernal, over-emotional baby body.</p><p>    He cries. Which is exactly what this needs.</p><p>    Hands try to shoo Mahad, try to comfort Atem, try to separate the two. Atem screams louder. Then some people start to lecture Mahaad, threatening punishment. Some question if Mahaad should be here at all. That will not do one bit. Problem: Atem's tiny mouth has problems enunciating on a good day, but with tears, it's gone to mush. He huffs and tries to clear his throat.</p><p>    "Go away!" Honestly this is a terrible first impression, but these people need to stop the ruckus this instant. Of course, everyone takes it the wrong way. Even though Atem is facing, and glaring at the officials. Mahaad gasps, and stumbles back as if burned. Atem flips around. His tiny bare feet slip on the hot courtyard sand.</p><p>    "Not you! You're my friend!" Mahaad blinks at him.</p><p>    "I...am thankful my prince." Mahaad sounds as if he is contemplating his own consciousness. And his sanity.</p><p>    "Mahaad's going to be the best sorcerer in the world! So he's going to stay here, and no one bothers him! Ever! You got it!" Atem screeches, intelligently. He turns back, flopping into the fabric of Mahaad's robes. They're full of sand, gritty from travel. But they are but the thin veil to the life thrumming underneath. Warm from sun, and Mahaad's warmth. Moving with every breath. His heartbeat thrumming like the pattering of rain, bringing life, and beginnings to the plants. It is wondrous.</p><p>    "How do you know this, my prince?" Shimon says cautiously. As if he isn't sure to believe this screaming toddler, or not.</p><p>    "H-he knew my name," Mahaad stutters. "How did you know my name, my prince?" Shit.</p><p>    "Uh," Atem is out of a lot of options here. Backed himself right in the corner. But he's pulled himself out of them before. Best to just bluff some confidence while he figures it out.</p><p>    "I saw it in my dreams! You're a great sorcerer! And you get an apprentice named Mana!" making sure she gets here, too is important. Then whispers break out. They rise like waves into shouts.</p><p>    "The prince is a seer!" They screech. Over, and over. "The prince is a seer!" Some attendants run off, shouting the while. Oh no. Atem might have placed himself permanently in this corner. He looks up at Mahaad. Mahaad looks at him with wonder, and disbelief.</p><p>    If he keeps this friend safe, he will gladly walk on a fine line for his whole life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:<br/>-Short comments<br/>-Long comments<br/>-Questions<br/>-Constructive criticism<br/>-“&lt;3” as extra kudos<br/>-Reader-reader interaction<br/>LLF Comment Builder<br/>This author replies to comments.<br/>If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:<br/>-Short comments<br/>-Long comments<br/>-Questions<br/>-Constructive criticism<br/>-“&lt;3” as extra kudos<br/>-Reader-reader interaction<br/>LLF Comment Builder<br/>This author replies to comments.<br/>If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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